Faith
by Ritual Union
Summary: Newly appointed Aurors, Draco and Harry have been tasked with a new case. Can they set aside their differences in the wake of a new Dark Lord? HP/DM, DM/BZ. Rated NC-17 for language, alcohol use, mild violence, and sexual content.


**Warnings: Continuation story. Dark topics, mild violence and slightly noncon.**

**Notes: **I'll have warnings at the beginning of each chapter so be on the lookout in case something is not of your taste. Reviews, comments are most welcome. Enjoy -RU

* * *

**oOo**

* * *

**Chapter One, Passive Aggressive**

Draco stood at the top floor of the three-story apartment building, overlooking the street below. A lit cigarette was held loosely between his lips. There was a heavy mist, hanging low over the garden that invaded the rooftop, over the tulips, the calla lilies; the camellias were nearly invisible in the light fog. He inhaled.

He'd only recently started using the Muggle product. He found that they calmed his nerves effectively. And these days he needed all the calm he could manage. He had a job interview later that day. He told himself he shouldn't be nervous, but it was the first time since the war that he was actually seeking out employment. He hadn't a clue how the magical community was going to react to him, seeing as his father was imprisoned in Azkaban for his previous ties to the Dark Lord. They'd probably assumed Draco was also in league with Him. He couldn't blame them. It was just the way it happened.

He shook his head, taking a long drag and exhaling the smoke slowly. Given that it's been a whole two years since that time, he was giving himself the hope that he was no longer in the public's radar. That they'd forgotten who his parents were and who they'd been involved with. He was nervous as hell but he held a small feeling of excitement nonetheless, for what would become of his life at the end of the day. He'd always dreamed of working at the Ministry, and it had taken a lot of courage to take the first step towards qualifying for an interview. The past year had been dedicated to completing his N.E.W.T.s and, just a few weeks prior, he'd been ecstatic to find out that he'd aced them. He smiled.

The crisp morning air chilled his arms, but he made no move to cover them. He looked down at his forearm, traced a finger over the permanent mark that stood so boldly against his light skin. The mark that will never fade.

"Why do you spend so much time up here, Draco?"

Draco looked over his shoulder. Blaise walked over, shirtless, and came to stand close behind him. He took the cigarette from Draco's lips, and transferred it over to his own. He blew some smoke on his face.

"Because I like it. Leave me alone for a second, will you?" Draco said, turning his gaze back to the street below. The mist was starting to clear up. He could just make out the tops of people's heads as they strolled down the London sidewalk.

"What if I don't wanna?" Blaise slid an arm around Draco's waist and pulled him closer. "I'm always waking up alone, wondering where the hell you've run off to. It's getting a little tiring, you know?"

Draco didn't answer. He'd been living with Blaise for the past few months. Draco's mother had left to France, unable to face the magical community after Lucius was put in Azkaban, leaving Draco with nothing to live on. He wasn't angry with her. It was the only thing she could do to continue to live a normal life as possible.

He pulled away from Blaise a little, the cigarette was dangerously close to the side of his face. Blaise didn't loosen his grip. Instead he pressed himself against Draco, the bulge in his pants becoming apparent.

"Not now, Blaise. Please." He saw Blaise's dark eyes flash with hurt but it was gone the next second. Blaise pushed him off gently. He took one last drag of the cigarette and twisted it into the soil of one of the potted plants that stood next to the railing. One of the leaves started to smolder.

"Fuck you, then," Blaise said. He kissed Draco roughly on the lips before departing through the door at the other end of the roof deck.

Draco sighed and turned to the little ghost flower next to him. He took the crushed cigarette butt, brushing away the ashes from its leaves.

* * *

oOo

* * *

Draco had a few hours to spare before he needed to appear at the Ministry, so he allowed himself a quick run through the streets. He breathed easily; he'd started a small work-out regime in order to get fit for his position and ran a little over twenty miles a week. He reached a busy shopping district and was just about to turn back when he spotted someone sitting outside a coffee shop at the other side of the street. He stopped in his tracks. A small jolt went through him as he realized who it was. A thick, un-ruly head of dark hair, a pair of emerald eyes that stared down at the table.

What was he doing in the Muggle area?

It was the first time Draco had seen anyone from Hogwarts since the war. He didn't know what to think. The last thing he'd seen Harry Potter doing was defeating the Dark Lord, and hearing the deafening roar of the crowd as the Dark Lord fell. He shook his head. It couldn't be him.

People around Draco started to get annoyed—he was blocking the sidewalk. He pushed past and leaned against the wall, out of the way, and positioned himself so he could stare easily at the raven-haired man. Potter had changed a lot. He was thinner, which was saying something since he'd always been a rather small kid at school, though his muscles were still apparent through the folds of his clothes. His hair was longer, partly covering his ears. He reached up to adjust his glasses, and frowned at the paper in front of him. Draco squinted and saw that he holding a copy of the Daily Prophet.

Draco waited for it, waited for the familiar feeling of anger that use to surge through him at the sight of Potter. He'd wanted so badly to destroy him-to make everyone see that Potter wasn't as special as they thought he was. He scowled and turned back towards his apartment. What did he care anyway? That was in the past and there was no reason for them to cross paths again. No need to relive those memories.

* * *

oOo

* * *

At the other side of the street, Harry frowned deeper. He looked up, the hair at the back of his neck prickling, as though he was being watched. He saw no one familiar, however, just Muggles walking from shop to shop, occasionally grazing his table, since the sidewalk was so narrow. Usually he would hate the thought of being somewhere so crowded, but no one knew him here, and that was extremely refreshing. He took a sip of his coffee and turned back to the Daily Prophet in his hands. He thought he'd been free of all the publicity following the events at Hogwarts two years ago. It had eventually died down, but today it seemed to have resurfaced, much to his dismay. The headline read, clear and bold, "Golden-Boy's Guaranteed Position at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."

Harry folded the paper neatly and set it aside. He supposed he would have to cut his reading of the Daily Prophet short every morning. Headlines would suffice until they forgot about him again. He got up from the table, newspaper tucked under his arm, and walked a few blocks down the street before turning into an empty alley. He looked over his shoulder to make sure no one was watching, and disapparated.

He flung the paper down on the coffee table, slightly annoyed and more nervous than ever about his interview at the Ministry. If he'd known for sure his position was guaranteed, he wouldn't have been practicing his magic so vigorously the past few weeks. Of course, that had just been the media trying to hype up the fact that he was still the Golden-Boy, able to get anything he wanted if only because of his fame.

"Kreacher!" he called out. "Kreacher, where in the bloody-"

"Yes, Master?" Kreacher appeared in the doorway, his too-large ears drooping down his face.

"Harry, Kreacher. How many times have I told you to call me Harry?" He sighed, raising a hand to rub his temple. "Never mind, never mind." He walked over to the mirror hanging in the sitting room wall and unbuttoned his shirt, slipping it off and laying it on the arm of the couch. He really missed living at the Burrow with the Weasley's. By this time in the day Molly would've had a nice brunch sitting at the kitchen table, calling everyone down to eat. Not that Kreacher didn't have anything ready for Harry-he could smell his favorite pumpkin pie cooking in the oven.

Harry would never be able to replace the sense of belonging he felt when he was with the Weasley's. But he had felt a burden to them. He was plagued with nightmares almost every night, which drained him severely. Usually it was easy to conceal what he was going through, but some days he'd be unable to socialize or interact with them. The memories became so fresh in his mind. There were too many wounds that hadn't healed, and his constant disconnect from the family started to affect them all. For that reason he decided to move back into Grimmauld Place on his own, much to the concern of his friends. He assured them he'd be alright. But sometimes he wasn't quite sure of it himself.

He turned to make his way to the bedroom and was startled to see a head floating in the flames of his fireplace.

"Fuck, Hermione. Could you give me a warning before you just pop up in my sitting room?" Harry snapped, though he was very much pleased to see her. She smiled at him in response.

"Good luck today, Harry!"

"Oh, you saw the Prophet?"

"No. I've known about it for quite some time, actually. You being my best friend and all."

Harry smiled. "Sorry, it's just I'd gotten used to _not _seeing my name all over the front page."

"I understand. It's unfortunate, Harry, but it'll-"

"-blow over. I know." Harry leaned against the side of the couch.

"Ron says it was only a matter of time before the Prophet found out. Don't worry yourself too much over it."

"How is Ron, by the way?" he asked.

Hermione had moved into the Burrow, having been going steady with Ron for the past few years.

"Grumbling on about how Mrs. Weasley isn't letting him have desserts anymore. She says he needs to be strong and healthy if he's going to be an Auror," she told him.

Harry grinned. That definitely seemed like something Ron would do. There was a small silence between them, both lost in thought.

"She misses you, you know."

"What?"

"Ginny. She misses you. We all do," Hermione said, her brown eyes softening.

Harry swallowed and looked away. Ginny. He missed her, too. Her holds, her hair, her lips. If only for their familiarity. But he couldn't do it anymore. The feelings that he'd had for Ginny had dwindled. And the last thing he wanted to do was string her along. She was worth much more than that. Though he treasured her more than anything, he didn't want to lie.

He braced himself for the coming question.

"Won't you come back, Harry?"

"I-Hermione, you know full well that I can't. I need to be on my own for a while. I've never wanted to depend on anyone, and I don't want to start now." He bit his lip when Hermione looked down to hide her hurt. "I'm sorry, babe. I didn't mean it in a bad way."

"I know. I understand."

"Besides, if Ron and I are going to be partners at the Ministry then you'll probably see me so often again you'll get sick of me," he said, jokingly. That made Hermione laugh. He smiled at her.

"You're probably right. Although," she eyed his shirtless body admiringly. "If you keep looking like that then I might very well enjoy your company again."

Harry blushed and threw his shirt at her face, which did nothing but catch flames and burn quietly in front of them. He put it out with a wave of his wand.

"Anyway, I just came to send a little luck to you from us. Ron is excited to see you again, even though he doesn't say it out loud. Floo us whenever you'd like, okay, Harry?"

"Sure thing. And thanks," Harry said. With a final smile, Hermione's face vanished from the fireplace, leaving Harry leaning against the side of the couch.

* * *

oOo

* * *

Harry took a deep breath and stepped out onto the Ministry of Magic arrival area. He straightened his cloak more securely over his shoulders. Nervousness was building up inside of him; he had no clue what to expect during this interview.

He made his way over to the elevators, relieved, as he looked over to the main plaza, that the statue of tortured Muggles from years ago was no longer its centerpiece. A grand fountain now took its place, with a few witches and wizards sitting at its edge.

"Coming in?" asked a voice from the elevator.

Harry turned and his hand instinctively twitched towards his wand. He stopped himself, realizing where he was. He looked into the cool gray eyes of Draco Malfoy, someone he hadn't seen since the war, and someone he had hoped never to see again.

Draco had noticed his hand movement, and the corner of his mouth turned up slightly.

"Don't worry, Potter. I wouldn't dream of doing anything to the savior of the Wizarding World."

Harry bit the inside of his cheek and stepped inside, positioning himself at the corner of the elevator behind Draco. The doors closed and it jerked upwards at once. A silence filled the small space as they were jostled to and fro. Harry's mind raced with memories of their past and he shook his head to get rid of them. They hadn't really parted on good terms, or on any terms for that matter, what with his family siding with Voldemort. Although, he did remember Draco's mother, her frantic and nearly silent whisper that had saved his life on the forest floor. How was he supposed to react towards the other man?

He decided to stay silent and to wait until Draco stepped off towards his destination. Hopefully this wouldn't happen too often in the future, if he got the position.

"Level Two, Department of Magical Law Enforcement," said a disembodied voice in the elevator. The doors opened and Harry made to step around Draco, but Draco went first, his cloak billowing behind him. Harry scowled and followed a few steps behind. Why in the world did he get off on this floor?

They walked, their steps echoing lightly in the long hallway.

"Should I be worried that you're following me, Potter?" Draco asked, looking at him through the corner of his eye

"I'm not following you."

They turned a corner together.

"I think you might've got off on the wrong floor," Draco continued.

"I was just about to tell you the same thing, Malfoy."

They came upon a set of double-doors and Draco opened them, revealing a large open hall, a few doors scattered on the wall, presumably leading to Auror offices.

Harry recognized with a small jolt, Pius Thickness at the other end, speaking with another wizard. He had to remind himself that Pius had been under the Imperius curse when he last fought alongside the Death Eaters. Pius turned to them and walked over.

"Good to see you two could make it. Pius Thickness, Head of Magical Law Enforcement," he said in a deep voice. He shook both their hands.

Draco paled.

Harry swallowed his dread. Draco was also going for an Auror position? Since when had he been interested in working at the Ministry of Magic? He eyed Draco closely. He'd grown taller in the past two years, several inches above Harry's own head. His hair was no longer slicked back. It hung loose, partly obscuring his eyes. His jaw was strong, and it clenched when Draco noticed Harry studying him. Harry looked away quickly.

"Mr. Ronald Weasley and Ms. Susan Bones should be joining us in less than two minutes or they will no longer be able to walk through those double doors," Pius continued, reaching a hand up and motioning for the wizard at the other end to join them.

At that moment the double doors opened again, and Ron and Susan hurried over. Harry beamed at him. Ron shot him a questioning look, no doubt wondering what Draco was doing there. Harry exchanged a smile with Susan, whom he was pleased to see.

They turned their attention back to Pius when he spoke. "Good, now everyone's here. I will leave you with Gowain Robards, currently in charge of all the Aurors here in the department. Robards, be sure to welcome them _properly_ once you've all been acquainted. I will be having a word with the Minister and won't be back for a while. Until that time, please thoroughly examine each and every one of them, after which I will expect you to have made a decision concerning who will move on."

Harry heard Ron swallow

"Ms. Bones, Mr. Weasley, Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy," Pius nodded to each of them in turn. "Good luck." With that, Pius Thicknesse disappeared through the double doors.

Robards turned to them. A long scar maimed the otherwise strong features on the other man's face. "Intimidating fella, isn't he?" He was well-built, nearly twice Harry's size, with large muscular arms and hands that looked as though they've broken a few or more bones.

He began to circle them slowly, studying. "I want you all to listen very carefully to what I have to say. You will be given a few tests. Pay close attention and you will have nothing to worry about.

The first thing that you will learn when becoming an Auror is to never trust a soul. Not one. You can't. You never know if the person you've grown up with your whole life, the person you've gone to school with for years, will turn their back on you the very next morning."

They eyed each other for a second, and Robard smirked.

"Although, you never know. Maybe they can be of help sometimes." Robards shrugged. "The second thing you will learn," he said, stopping in front of Harry and peering down at him. He took the liberty of parting Harry's hair from his forehead, exposing his old scar.

Harry had the urge to slap the hand away, slightly affronted that Robards had crossed his personal space, but held still. Maybe it was part of the test. The back of his neck prickled.

Robards continued onto Draco, stopped so close to him that their noses were nearly touching. Draco didn't move a muscle. Robards reached down and took a hold of Draco's arm; he pulled the sleeve away, and they could see the Dark Mark that lay there. Draco's nostrils flared but he didn't pull away. Susan stared wide-eyed.

"Funny, I thought it'd fade," Robards muttered quietly to himself. He let go of Draco's hand, which was now clenched.

"The second thing you will learn," Robards repeated. He continued to circle them slowly. He studied Susan. "Is to never, ever, close your eyes."

"Ever?" Ron asked. Robards turned to him.

"Weasley, is it?"

Ron nodded, uneasy.

"Well, you see, Weasley. You never know who might be lurking behind you."

They all turned to look. Harry was unsettled. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. He was sure the others felt something amiss, too.

"Or who might be lurking in plain sight." Robards' voice became quieter.

They leaned closer to him.

"There are ways, you see, to conceal and to disguise...that make easy prey." Robards stopped in front of them, about a yard away. His voice was nearly inaudible. "So you…" He took a step back. "…always…" He took another. "…have to be ready."

Harry saw it before the others. Robards hand flew to grab his wand, and Harry did the same. He flung it up swiftly, calling for a defensive spell as a jet of red light flew towards them. The others reacted quick. They pulled out their wands, just as figures materialized around the room surrounding them. Five in all, wearing dark cloaks and hoods, their wands shooting spells directly into their group.

A jet of red whistled right past his ear and he turned to see who had cast it.

"Harry, your left!" Ron shouted.

Harry turned again, sending a stunning spell to one of the figures that had been aiming at him. Shot after shot was sent in his direction and he deflected each one. There was no place to hide, the room was an open field. He heard Susan groan and he saw her fall to the ground out of the corner of his eye. Risking a quick look towards Ron, he saw with panic that he had been overpowered by one of the figures, and was now on the ground, body-bound by magic. He turned back to his attacker, furious, and managed to disarm him. The cloak fell and he was shocked to see his own face looking back at him. The clothes of his attacker quickly transformed to match what Harry was wearing. Harry stared in disbelief.

The other Harry opened his mouth, "Draco!"

Draco, who had just managed to disarm his own opponent turned to the scene: Harry pointing his wand to the person opposite, who was also Harry.

"Draco, help," the attacker said.

The real Harry tensed. Draco had pointed his wand directly at his chest. They looked at one another. Harry's emerald ones, filled with anxiety, and Draco's cold silver ones, unreadable.

The attacker took the opportunity to grab his wand from the floor, raising it for a curse. Harry braced himself for a double hit, but just then a flash of light lit up the entire room. The attacker lay on the floor, unconscious; his body and face slowly turned back to their original form.

Harry was breathing hard, his hair drenched in sweat, unable to understand what had just happened. He looked towards Draco, who still had his wand raised.

* * *

oOo

* * *

A wave of relief stole through Draco. He hadn't been all too sure that he was hitting the right person. The split second that he'd looked into Harry's eyes, saw the fear in them…Draco shivered. It was the first time he'd actually looked into Potter's eyes and had not seen hate in them. He hoped never to look at them that closely again. It was all that and the fact that Harry would never address him by his first name that he'd chosen to aim his spell at the other wizard. It all worked out, he supposed.

Draco looked around at the scene. The ordeal had lasted not five minutes. The cloaked men were slowly stirring on the ground. Harry had run over to Ron and Susan, who were dusting themselves off shakily. He wondered whether he should go and help but thought better of it. He remained where he was, his wand still clenched in his hand. He raised it when he saw Robards stand up and straighten his robe.

"Adrian, please take Ronan to the infirmary. Your team is dismissed."

"Yes, sir." Adrian, a tall and slender man with short brown hair, got up quickly, limping slightly and waved his wand at the shape-shifter on the floor, who had yet to wake up from the spell Draco had shot at him.

Draco stared. Had this been a test? By the look on Harry's face, he was just as lost as he was.

"What the hell was that?" Ron demanded, holding onto his arm, which had gone numb. "You could have killed us!"

"That's enough, Weasley," Robards said.

Ron scowled.

"Looks like they wanted to see our fighting ability," Draco said. He walked over to the group. Strength in numbers, after all.

"You are correct, Mr. Malfoy. And what an impressive ability you have. None of my aurors have ever been knocked down quite so easily."

"Good thing you're looking for new ones then. Out with the old, in with the new." Draco smirked.

Robards narrowed his eyes but didn't respond. He waited until all the cloaked aurors had left the room before addressing them again.

"Although you have survived your first lesson, I expect a greater deal of work to be done regarding your fighting abilities. Ms. Bones, I think we will have to work on your periphery. It does not fair well if you are only focusing on one target. You have to be aware of everything that is happening in your surroundings all at once. It is vital and it means the difference between living and being at the receiving end of an Unforgivable. It is something that can be worked on—I would like to invite you to join us back here tomorrow morning for official training. You are free to go," Robards said. Susan thanked him, shook his hand and made her way to the double doors.

"Mr. Weasley, being a part of this organization means that you are not looking after yourself anymore. You have your team, and in the future you'll have other people's lives at your hands as well. You have showed us that you are aware of the fact by calling out to your team member before he could be hit. I will see you tomorrow morning to begin official training. You are free to go."

Ron left, looking extremely pleased with himself. Draco nearly scoffed. He glanced at Harry, who had a foolish grin on his face as he watched Ron walk out the room. Seriously, how could he smile with so much freedom? Draco found himself wondering about the last time he'd ever smiled that way. He couldn't think of a time.

"Mr. Potter, you have great skill with your wand. It seems to come almost naturally. That being said, you're not using your abilities at your full potential. You hesitate, and that kind of thing will get you killed. Trust yourself, Mr. Potter. I will see you in the morning."

Draco watched the younger man walk away without a second look in his direction. Draco clenched his teeth. He could've at least shown some sort of gratitude towards him for saving his life. The double doors shut with a loud thud. He turned his eyes back to Robards.

Robards looked at him up and down before speaking. "Have you been training with anyone, Malfoy?"

Draco blinked and was quiet for a moment.

"Why do you ask?"

"Well I don't expect Ronan to be up for a few days after what you threw at him. I'd like to know of your previous training, if any, that you've done."

Draco thought for a moment. Why hadn't Robards asked the others the same question?

Out of habit, he reached for his forearm and realized what the other man must have meant. He had taken particular interest in Draco's dark mark earlier during his inspection. "I thought it'd fade…" Robards had said. Did the guy really expect him to talk about the Dark Lord? Perhaps, to explain the various things he learned from the darkest wizard of recent times? He struggled to keep a straight face, though he felt his anger rise.

"I've never had any formal training, besides my schooling, if that's what you mean. I follow my instincts and nothing more."

Robards studied him for a moment longer before saying, "Fair enough. I will see you in morning. You're dismissed."

* * *

oOo

* * *

"Where were you today, Drake?"

They were at the kitchen table. A plateful of food sat uneaten in front of him. He didn't have much of an appetite. There was too much to think about. He reached into his pocket for his cigarette pack and found it empty. He cursed silently.

Blaise tapped on the table to grab his attention. "Hey, I'm talking to you."

"What?"

"Where were you today?"

"Oh. Around," Draco responded.

"Around," Blaise repeated.

Draco avoided the other man's eyes. Did he always have to keep a tab on where he was?

"Well, where is 'Around', exactly?" Blaise raised his flask and took a long swig. If he kept at it he would be incomprehensible by the end of the night.

Draco felt an argument coming along and he sighed. He could just answer him and calm the man down. Blaise was a stubborn bastard that always needed to be right. Even more so after a couple shots of firewhiskey. Thanks to his royal, pure-blood upbringing he had always received what he wanted, it was what he was accustomed to. It was thanks to him that Draco had a roof over his head. They'd always been close friends at school, but it was only after Draco had taken up residence at his home that the other man had become slightly obsessed with the young Malfoy. He couldn't blame him for that either; he was gorgeous. Blaise wasn't half bad himself. He was a great shag in bed. But he had a temper that could rival even the Dark Lord. Lucky for Draco, he'd been raised exactly the same way.

Draco stood up from the table and made his way to the living room in search of a cigarette. He heard Blaise following behind.

Draco checked the cabinet drawers and the top of one of the bookshelves. Finally! He pulled down a fresh pack and took a cigarette out, lit it, and took a long drag. He let his breath out slowly, feeling his nerves calm. He didn't turn around to face Blaise.

"Why can't you just answer my fucking question? It's a simple fucking question."

"I'm really not in the mood for your shit tonight, Blaise. So back the fuck off my dick. You're not my mum."

Before he could take another drag, he was thrown forcefully onto the couch, his cig and his pack falling from his hand.

"Blaise, what the fuck-" A hand closed around his throat. Not choking him, but hard enough to hold him in place. "Blaise-" Draco reached for his waistband.

"Oh, no you don't, you little bitch," he hissed. Blaise threw his wand out of reach. The hand that wasn't on Draco's throat closed around his hands and held them still. Despite Draco's efforts to pry him off his body, the other man was taller and much stronger. "I'll teach you to talk to me like that."

Draco was having trouble breathing and when his throat was finally released he hadn't enough time to take a breath before Blaise's mouth was over his own. It reeked of firewhiskey and he tried in vain to push him off again. His hands were placed over his head and Blaise moved his mouth down Draco's jaw line. He breathed hard and closed his eyes as Blaise bit at a particularly sensitive spot near his earlobe, eliciting a moan from Draco's lips. Blaise laughed softly. Fucking bastard.

* * *

oOo

* * *

A while later Draco slipped back into his trousers and carefully stooped to pick up his pack from the floor. The lit cigarette had burned out, leaving a small scorch mark on the shiny wooden floor. He stood up again and winced, looking back towards the couch where Blaise lay passed out.

Inhaling a newly lit fag, he grabbed a blanket from one of the cupboards in the hallway and covered the young man on the couch. He watched him for a moment. He really was a nice looking bloke. Draco frowned and made his way to the showers. He'd have to start looking for a new place soon.


End file.
